A gay story: Boyfriend I love being his boyfriend. He told me someone would be asking me about him for some kind of interview or something. Of course I agreed to do it.
I’ve been with him since 2020, The Year From Hell. When I met him, I had a clear palate. He, apparently, was hungry for someone like me. I couldn’t be more thrilled that fate caused our paths to cross.
The day he first saw me, I was walking down a sidewalk next to the beach, but it was “off” season, so it wasn’t overly crowded. It was still fairly warm, though — mid-70s, as I recall.
He’ll be the first to tell you that I love crop-tops. I always have. I think it takes a certain kind of guy to wear one, and I think I’m that guy. A crop-top on a guy is equal parts confident, playful, and maybe just a bit naughty. It’s not for the coy, not for the shy — although being a Cancer guy, I have a touch of shyness. But my Cancer energy is good because it gives me a nice feminine edge that a lot of muscle guy types don’t give off.
I am not a hairy guy. I mean, I have some faint black hairs on my arms — if you look close enough — but I’m a pretty smooth guy otherwise. That lack of body hair allows my physical features to stand out.
One of those features — that me and my boyfriend both love out of this world — is my navel. Now, a lot of guys, a lot of people, would say “so what?” to that. Why would anyone love his bellybutton? In my case it’s because the kind of navel I have — the shape of it, its depth and contour — is relatively unusual, although with social media sites I’ve seen more guys with my kind of navel in other countries, and all of ours are this same shape — a very long, oval, vertical “slit” of an innie that’s deep enough to take one or more finger joints…and a lot of cum, too.
I mean, look at me and mine, I’m wearing a black crop right now. I’m going to sit up a little bit so you can get a better look. See how deep and oval my navel is? See the lovely way it slopes if you look at it from one side? Even though there’s no body hair in or around it, it’s really dark on its inside. And a properly cut crop-top like the one I’m wearing shows a “strip” (I’ll call it) of about three inches of my midriff with my navel centered horizontally. It’s more than the tease-y shirts some guys wear where their bellybuttons “wink” at people, fleeting in and out of view, daring others to look (although I will admit to wearing those also; they’re fun in a different way).
I really can’t say why showing off my navel turns me on so much. I think maybe it went back to my days in college when I’d be sitting kind of at the back of the classroom, and some guy at the front would be droning on and on about some subject I really should have been paying attention to, and it would be 2 in the afternoon, after lunch, and I’d be a bit bored or drowsy.
And I’d lean back in my chair — I was in a knit sweater at the time, it was fall semester — and my sweater rode up and I just felt this…air…on my stomach, on my bellybutton. There was just something about my navel feeling free, feeling the caress of air currents, that made me horny. No one else ever looked at me stretching…to my knowledge. I’m sure some guys here and there have stolen glances, though.
This other time, I was bored again, and I stretched again, and I needed to scratch my stomach – I had a little itch on it – on the front of it. So while I was partly rared back in my chair, I reached with one finger and gave my stomach a little scratch, and my finger caught a part of my navel. It felt nice. And I felt super horny as a result of that, so I felt a little more — again, no one saw me — and later on, back in my apartment, I began experimenting, feeling myself up in my bellybutton. I learned that if I fingered my navel, I could give myself a hard-on and even start feeling the sensations of coming.
The more I did it, the more sensitive my innie became. And then I got to the point where I said, “fuck it, I’m wearing shirts that let my navel show,” and did. And over time, it got hornier for me to show off my bellybutton, and to feel it and stroke it, but not in any kind of obvious way in public. Sometimes I’d gently drag my hand across my stomach because it felt comforting, but also because it also felt super hot.
Then I started fingering my navel as I masturbated. That was just the best, the first time I did it, my left hand fingering the deep, soft, warm part of my stomach, the right hand going to town on my big ol’ penis. When I finally blasted, I shot so much cum out it filled my navel all the way to the top. Fucking hot.
Well, the universe must have decided at that point that I needed a plus-one, and I was out on the quad this one spring day, wearing a short-sleeve crop-top that was, like, dark blue or some dark color. I had faded jeans on, and it was a really pretty day, and I felt really chill.
I was in front of one of the bulletin boards near the student union and this guy walks up to me. He had on, like, one of those professional looking cameras, one of the big, black ones with the huge lenses. So I knew he was for real. And he casually walks up and introduces himself, and says he absolutely is in love with my outfit, and could he take a few photos?
Oh, you bet I said yes! But I didn’t just say it because he wanted my picture. I just have a sixth sense about people, always have. I can sense when someone is good-hearted. And this guy, this photo guy, struck that note in me. Plus, even though he was older than me, I thought he was pretty hot. It was something in the way he carried himself. He wasn’t like some of the idiots I saw on campus — like the frat boys who crush beer cans against their foreheads. Maybe those guys have big dicks but they have small brains. I like guys who are smart, and this guy struck me as smart.
We made arrangements to do photos in the downtown area. It being a college town, downtown is pretty deserted on the weekend, so not many gawkers or nosy folks were around. He specifically asked me to wear a red crop-top — something about trying to recapture the memory of a guy he’d seen years ago but never had the courage to ask for a photo.
I happened to have this candy-apple red crop. It rides just a little lower on my body, but still leaves about two inches of stomach and my navel exposed. He said it was perfect. We probably spent about a half-hour taking photos. And we’re talking and getting to know each other. I can tell he likes me, and I’m really, really liking him. I’m even getting a bit horny.
We went to his place after the shoot. Since he shoots digital, we were able to see the images right away. And oh my god, they were amazing! He definitely has the creative eye. And I told him he should seriously consider going pro. He said he prefers doing art stuff — more freedom, and the shows are more fun. He told me he regularly sells framed prints — I didn’t know just how accomplished he was at the time.
Usually, I’m not the most physically demonstrative — us Cancer guys can be cautious, although we’re sometimes known for starting things, taking the first step — so at one point, while we’re in his living room, I just walk up to him and gently pull him into a big, warm, cuddly hug. You know how some guys just have amazing energy? He’s one of those — so warm, so kind, so…safe. I love how his upper body just completely filled my chest, my arms.
And I felt his hands and forearms around my waist, around my bared midriff. I loved it. He started stroking my lower back with his hands and I thought I was gonna squeal, it felt so good. Then he stopped and ran his fingers through my hair — he apparently just loves long hair. I loved feeling him stroking my head, he just has the touch.
As if that whole thing couldn’t get any better, he looks down at my bared stomach and says, very sincerely, “I love your navel.” He told me why he loved it — that he loved the oval shape, how deep and dark it was in the middle, everything. So I took his right hand and guided it up to my navel to get him to start feeling it, touching it. He took the hint, and really got into it. Then he says I read his mind.
Both of us have this navel fetish thing going. I love showing mine off, he loves looking at it — and others. He is just so ga-ga about guys with their navels showing in general. He’s read articles, blogs, books, you name it. And I totally dig that.
The feeling of his fingers on my navel is electric. Because we’re both really in tune with each other — dare I use the term “soul mate”? – this amazing erotic and emotional energy hits my innie and it’s gotten to where he can make me come just by gently feeling it up.
Of course, we didn’t stop there. We started not just an emotional relationship, but also a physical one — a very physical one. And he has made me come — very hard, so hot — just by fingering my bellybutton. He can do this thing where he makes circles around the outer shape of it, and then by spearing it in the deepest part of it. If he does this with the right rhythm I can fill up my navel with three blasts of cum.
My navel is very sensitive. I love it when he sticks my penis in it, and how the shaft completely fills it snugly. When he comes — and he comes really hard because he’s such a hard-core navel fetishist — there’s just nothing better. I’m a huge semen junkie and I crave the sensation of his thick, whitish, syrupy fluid. The inner walls of my innie can feel that warm fluid of his.
I love the feeling of his hands caressing my sides as he’s gazing at my bared stomach. It drives him wild when I wear crop-tops in public, knowing that my navel showing is just for him to enjoy later, even though others may steal looks at it.
We have developed this really unique bond — on some level it’s spiritual. I love using sex and my navel to encourage him, to reward him, to console him, everything. He has told me that my physical generosity has had a healing effect on him, and that it’s changed him deeply for the better. He says he feels like the whole person he wasn’t able to be for years.
Cancer guys are supposed to be all about tits. I am absolutely nuts about his nipples. They’re so meaty and fleshy in my fingers. I know how crazy it drives him for me to play with them. I’ve also sucked on them. Many times I’ve sucked on them until he came. I love seeing semen jet two or more feet into the air.
I think I have a term for the kind of guy I am, to him: affectionate nymphomaniac. I love loving on him, but I have this nicely lecherous edge where I’m very down for sex and cum and messiness.
He’s so creative when it comes to playing with my innie navel. If he does a light grazing touch, I feel my crotch stir lightly. If he pokes it playfully, I can’t help but moan. When he gives my stomach a flurry of kisses, I’m getting close to coming. If he presses his tongue in the deepest part of my navel, he can make me come.
He loves rubbing his penis tip in it, and then coming all over it, filling it totally up with semen and making a mess all over it and my stomach. Good sex absolutely should be messy. Sometimes I’ll hold his penis up to my navel and roll it back and forth against it, pressing his shaft into the deep center of it. I’ll masturbate him against my navel until he comes, and sometimes those eruptions are hard, squirting a good two or three feet into the air from the surface of my stomach when I have him on his back. My slit innie navel can make him totally lose control of his penis and to shoot uncontrollably even involuntarily.
Speaking of which…we both love thick, stringy semen so much! We love the way it looks, especially when it’s stringy and dangling off the tip of his penis, or off my face or chin, when he comes hard enough to hit either. There’s nothing like that thick, viscous feeling coating my fingers and my navel.
I love making him come with my navel. My favorite words I love hearing from him are “I’m gonna come.”
We both share a navel fetish so I play with his also. And we spend plenty of time looking at other hottie navels online. He also loves outies and I don’t have one, so I’m completely fine with him getting off to an outie he may see. I encourage him to have other experiences. It’s good for both of us.
But we share this concept of a “home” navel. My navel is always ultimately the one he’ll always come back to, his favorite, and his, mine. Sometimes I’ll watch him enjoying another navel in secret. It’s so hot being a hidden plus-one.
I love watching him play with sex toys, too, especially the twisting or rotating kind. He’s lying down or pinned down while I’m in front of him with my navel showing, while some machine is twisting his penis until he comes. He actually just got this really hot one, the combo of which with my navel he’s never lasted more than a few minutes before blowing up hard.
Sometimes after an especially intense ejaculation I’ll or he’ll cry or quietly sob. It’s not sadness or despair. It’s just a release of any latent or pent-up energies. I’ll take him in my arms and just hold him or he’ll do the same for me until we’re calm. It feels so comforting. Sometimes it leads to another round of sex. Tears and semen both strengthen our bond with each other.
We both love hearing the word navel out loud. Said the right way with the right tone, it can make either of us come.
Oh, I see him on his way up the walkway to our home. I love him so much. I know I’m gonna cum.